


a capite ad calcem

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-31 02:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12666402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: Ravus’s hands accommodate by sliding down to his back, and Ignis’s hands frame Noctis’s face with all the reverence in the world.





	a capite ad calcem

They worship him together.

He feels like a king when he can slide a hand along a strong jaw, let his lips roam as heterochromatic eyes gaze down at him, tangle fingers into brown hair and turn his head to look down at green and glasses. He can feel the adoration from both angles, the love from both of them, in their own unique ways.

Ravus borders on more passionate– that is to say, less in fear of hurting him. His mouth bruises his and he leaves bite marks along his neck when Noctis turns his head to him. Hands brace on the bed, on a knee, a thigh. They slide up his abdomen and press flat over nipples and Noctis jerks when Ravus breathes “My King” against his skin.

Ignis does match him in passion– in his own way. He is softer, more careful, unswervingly loyal. Always calculating, always endlessly devoted as he kneels between Noctis’s thighs, lips and teeth catching skin and drawing moans and laughter and pleas alike. His hands are steady when he takes him in hand and says “Your Majesty” and strokes him to completion.

Noctis can barely breathe afterwards, face buried in Ravus’s neck until he is able to lean down to take Ignis’s face in his hands and kiss him. Ravus’s hands accommodate by sliding down to his back, slipping along the nodules in his spine, and Ignis’s hands frame Noctis’s face with all the reverence in the world.

  
  


 

The two princes worship him, and Ignis feels like he’s dreaming.

The prince of Lucis and the former prince of Tenebrae, both of them so intent on their task that he can feel his throat close up with emotion. Familiar hands– ones he’s known since childhood– tracing battle scars along his skin, settling determinedly around his waist as he thrusts into him from behind. He can’t see his face, but he can see mismatched eyes gazing at him with all of the intensity in the world and he has to choke back something suspiciously close to a sob and fails.

Ravus sweeps his hands into his hair– the prosthetic ever more gentle than Ignis would have thought possible– laces his fingers behind his neck and forces him down to meet him in a kiss. The former prince bites at his lips and swallows Ignis’s breath, and swallows the eventual hitch in it, too. 

Noctis runs constant compliments behind him, and Ignis  _ aches _ and moans at every quick, jerky movement. The prince peppers kisses against his back and his shoulders and tells him how beautiful he is, and Ignis wonders if he can feel him shaking to pieces beneath him and knows that he can.

He collapses onto Ravus’s chest afterwards, and the strangled noise he’s been keeping back explodes from his own mouth. Sensation continues to overwhelm him, and he is drowning, but he laughs when he hears his two princes speak.

“We’ve made him emotional again.”

“That just means we rock his world.”

  
  


 

Ravus has never been worshipped. The fact that he suddenly is, and by two people, nonetheless, baffles him.

It’s strange to be pressed up between two of the most important people in his life. The prince of Lucis pressed up against his chest, fingers in his hair and taking his face in his hands. And the prince’s advisor pressed flush against his back, cock buried inside of him while huffing soft breaths against his neck.

He tries to maintain himself throughout, a fact that Noctis finds endlessly amusing. His kisses are slow and soft and lingering, until Ravus is breathing sharp and shallow, and then he reaches down to take his cock and Ravus gasps right into his fellow prince’s mouth.

Ignis laughs against his shoulder blades. It had taken some time to learn that it isn’t malicious. It still irks him, irks him in the same way that every thrust of his is slow and steady and measured, fingertips digging bruises into his hip. Every action meant to bring him closer to release. So painfully,  _ exquisitely  _ close.

They are  _ both _ impossible, and beautiful, and he whines– very softly, sweat dripping into his eyes, hair plastered in his face– into Noctis’s mouth. 

“Ignis,” he grinds out. There is only acceptance and the heat from either side of his body, burning up beneath his skin. “Noctis–” His voice is too thin, and he almost chokes on his release, and he refrains from speaking afterwards until his composure comes back. The presence at his back nuzzles into him, and the presence at his front presses idle kisses to his skin as they drift together.

**Author's Note:**

> is anyone even surprised I wrote this at this point  
> join me in rarepair hell
> 
>  
> 
> #RavusSandwich2k17


End file.
